


All The Words We Didn’t Say - The Diary of Elio Perlman

by TeaHouseMoon



Series: All The Words We Didn’t Say [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Diary, Elio writes his diary, Love, M/M, New York City, Sequel, Sex, elio is his bratty self :), elio is in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: Now that Oliver is back in his life and they are about to spend the summer together in New York, Elio decides to keep a diary to remember every moment.Continues from All The Words We Didn’t Say.** Completed. **





	1. Chapter 1

Jun 28, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
I had been thinking of starting another diary, after the one I kept last summer (which wasn’t really a diary; more like a collection of scribbles. It’s hidden behind the wardrobe now, anyway.). I had been thinking about starting it for a while, after Oliver and I began corresponding, but I never got round to it.

But now I’m going to do it. Now that Oliver is back.

I want to write down everything so that I don’t forget it. I want to write down the thoughts that come into my mind - and I wanted to say so that in the future I am not so naive when it comes to the symptoms of falling in love, but it would be grossly incorrect. I don’t need to catalogue the symptoms, because I will never fall in love again. I will never love anyone else. I am in love with Oliver; and if anything, I will just keep falling in love with him.

Now, for the purpose of this diary (which is to remember everything that has to do with Oliver): yesterday was incredible.

I didn’t have and still have no words that can properly describe what I felt when I saw Oliver at the station. I still can’t. I don’t know how long I spent with my arms around him, feeling like crying and laughing at the same time, while my heart was short circuiting it was beating so fast. With Oliver chuckling quietly in my ear (but when I pulled back a little, his eyes were wet, too).

He looks even better than last year.  
And I still can’t believe he’s actually here. I need to glance at him every now and then, to make sure I’m not seeing things, and sometimes I have to reach out and touch his arm, his hair, his cheek, to convince myself that he’s real and to remind my body that it’s him. Today, I did it, and we were sitting at the table outside for breakfast, only my dad with us reading his newspaper; and when I reached out to touch him Oliver took my hand, and brought it to his mouth to kiss. Right there, in the open. I think I stopped breathing.

Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have started writing this diary yesterday - it was such a whirlwind of things happening. My world changed from grey to multicolor in the time of a drive to the station. I think I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t even manage to eat or drink at dinner, not even the apricot juice that Mafalda promptly brought out for Oliver. Oliver scolded me quietly for it, but the truth is that his rough whisper did nothing but mess me up even more. By the end of dinner, all I wanted was to run to the bedroom, our bedroom, and be his again.

I think we made love for maybe, four hours straight. I’m not even kidding. I don’t remember anything except him; kissing him, him kissing me, his tongue and his warm, wet mouth, with cigarette and wine and Oliver flavor; his fingers in my hair getting tangled in my curls; when his huge hand stroked down to my belly and in between my legs, and all I wanted was to scream I want that inside me too, I want all your fingers and your hand and your tongue and you, I can take it, I can take all of it. Please give it to me.

I was exhausted after and he told me to sleep, while circling me with his arms and sounding sleepy himself. We woke up today with the chirping of the birds outside; and there was a happiness inside my chest that I don’t think I’ve ever felt, ever in my life, before.

We spent the whole morning just hanging out in the sun and drinking lemonade. He’s napping on the grass outside now, while I sit not far away, writing this.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I don’t think I’ll have time to write. I don’t think I’ll want to. I hope I’ll be with him every waking moment, I hope we’ll be one and the same person, as if we’ve accidentally (not so accidentally) glued ourselves to each other.

He’s everything I want.


	2. Chapter 2

July 2nd 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
OLIVER IS TAKING ME TO NEW YORK !!!!!!!

I AM GOING TO NEW YORK WITH OLIVER!!!!!!

I can’t believe it! I am so over the moon!! It’s his present for me for my birthday and it’s beyond my wildest hopes and my boldest desires. I mean I know that we’d been talking about me going to visit but, I don’t think I’d actually, REALLY allowed myself to, I don’t know? Believe I would go for real? See myself there? Have an actual, real plane ticket in my hands??

Oliver arranged everything (my father helped, I hear), it’s actually real and it’s happening. I am beyond myself!

We’re leaving for New York on July 6th. I am so excited! It’s only a few days away. I still have to pack. I don’t even know what I’m going to take with me. I feel like I can’t even think right now!   
Mafalda has already reminded me twice.   
She’s worried as if she were the one going instead of me. Oliver just smiles in my direction when she reminds me. I love seeing that smile.

I suppose I should say something about my birthday, which has now come and gone.   
I am finally eighteen! But honestly, it wasn’t a huge affair, and I didn’t want it to be. Finding Oliver’s letter on my pillow in the morning, and the plane tickets smuggled in it, already made it the best day of my life. I felt like I didn’t need anything else!

We had a few of my friends over - Chiara, Marzia, Giacomo; and a couple of relatives. My mother and Mafalda brought out the cake, of course (chocolate and custard, my favorite) and we spent the whole afternoon drinking spumante - I think I was quite tipsy by the evening. I definitely felt like celebrating!

My parents wondered why I didn’t want to go out. I just wanted to stay in with Oliver. In fact, I was trying to find an excuse for us to go up to our room and stay in bed until the next morning.

But a little later, Oliver asked me if I wanted to go for a swim; that was an even better idea which I hadn’t thought about.   
Going swimming, in the dark, with him - I don’t think my birthday could have ended any better.   
He kissed me as soon as he was able to get his hands on me, in the lake, after I splashed him and made him laugh. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he hugged me to him, and we kissed and kissed. He touched me everywhere, and I touched him everywhere, and for a moment I thought, we’re going to have sex here. But it was getting kind of chilly (the moment I shiver once, he’s already on me asking if I’m cold and trying to warm me up); and I asked him if he was worried that someone would see us. He said he wasn’t worried about getting caught; but he didn’t want anyone to see me, naked like that. Not even a glimpse of me, not even for a second.

He always makes this face when he’s jealous. He has this light in his eyes, and I could see it so clearly even in the darkness around the lake; it always makes my blood hot. So when he said, we should finish this in the shower - you can bet I raced him there.

So that’s how my birthday ended. With me and him, still damp from our shower (and our first time having sex there), kissing in bed in each other’s arms until we fell asleep.

Couldn’t have asked for anything better.

I’m really going to try and think about what to pack for New York tomorrow. Promise.

So much is happening, and so fast. I should be overwhelmed, but I’m just really happy.


	3. Chapter 3

July 4th 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Today, my parents decided to host a little party for Independence Day, in honor of Oliver (papà isn’t really bothered with celebrations, even though this one involves him too, being American and all.) Oliver was laughing - he isn’t one for traditions either, but it amused him, especially watching Mafalda’s no-nonsense approach to it: a random party, in July? What for? And why would you sing the national anthem, so theatrically? Isn’t Ferragosto enough, and more fun anyway?

It was all very entertaining.

I, in the meantime, have changed my mind. After thinking about it constantly since the other night, I’ve decided I actually want to have sex in the lake with Oliver. Just the thought of it gives me goosebumps of excitement, god, it would be so hot! To hide under the water, clinging to each other and making our bodies cling to each other too.  
I keep whispering it to Oliver every chance I get, and asking him for it. We have to do it before we leave. I know he isn’t of the idea, though, but I see the glint in his eyes when I say the words, quietly just for him. He told me I’m a tease. He refuses to answer me, but last time I tried, yesterday on the stairwell when we stole a kiss just before we went down for dinner, he slid my shirt up a little and pinched the skin on my abdomen, making me yelp, and called me a devil. I had to grit my teeth not to grab him there and then.

This devil right here reckons he’s going to get what he wants...


	4. Chapter 4

  
July 6th 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
What does it say about me that I am writing with such insistence and in such detail about Oliver and I making love?  
What does it say that I not only want to write it, but read it, too, afterwards (at some point, in a future I don’t want to think about, when I am again deprived of him?) What does it say about the spell he has put on me?

I should probably just give in to it and not question it. The point of this diary is to record my thoughts, isn’t it? And it’s really not my fault if I can’t think of anything else but him.

He’s being so careful and attentive with me. I love being listened to, I love feeling his eyes on me every time I say something. I played for him today; my chest felt so full with the joy of knowing he liked it.

And when he lets himself be convinced by me - Oliver, the man who knows himself and knows what he wants - I can’t help but be left surprised. How did I do it? What word made him change his mind? What button did I push? I don’t know.  
And yet, last night, he came to the lake with me. I headed over first, told him I was going for a swim; on my own, if he wasn’t going to join me.  
But he was right behind me, and when he reached me, with the water already licking our feet, he grabbed my waist and made me jump and laugh, and growled low against my temple to tell me off. “You devil. You devil.”

But sure enough his hands weren’t shy, and he distracted me so much with kisses, and making me want to cling to his neck because I was worried of losing my footing, that I didn’t even register the moment we were actually stroking against each other and wanting to get our pleasure from each other.  
He wouldn’t let me squirm away. ‘You wanted this,’ he was saying against my cheek and I think he thought it would sound like a threat, a sort of ‘Be still now, or else’ - but he didn’t realize that growl was turning me on even more.

He still doesn’t understand, that I would let him do anything to me.

But then, there’s something I also hadn’t properly realized, maybe, until last night. That he won’t hurt me. That he always does whatever he can not to hurt me. That at my first shiver or frown or cry he’ll stop and move or hug or touch until it’s good again.

I can’t believe I insisted so much, and wanted my last caprice before we leave to become true, and yet he took responsibility so that it would be great and memorable. Because I wanted it.  
Sometimes I think that I can’t believe that he loves me.

It’s 6 in the morning now, and he’s asleep. I’m too excited to be sleeping. We leave this afternoon for New York. It feels strange, to say this - but in a good way; it’ll be me in his world, rather than him in mine. I want to cry and laugh at the same time.  
But I think I’m just going to go and curl up by his side; wrap his arm around me; and let him pull me to him, and ground me, like an anchor that doesn’t let me float away, just like he doesn’t let me out of his sight.


	5. Chapter 5

July 7th 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
We are in New York! In New York City! Finally finally we are here!

We arrived yesterday, and the excitement still hasn’t faded one bit for me. Oliver keeps shaking his head and chuckling, he can’t understand how I’m not at all jet-lagged. On the contrary, I am so wired I can’t sit still!

It was really difficult to sit in a plane for 9 hours, next to Oliver, and not be able to touch him. To kiss him. I wanted to snuggle up to him and and I wanted his arms around me, but we couldn’t, of course.  
So at some point we just spread a blanket on our laps, pulled it up almost to our shoulders, and pretended to sleep while we held hands under it.  
As the plane flew over the ocean, I thought that I like feeling as if he came to Italy to steal me away. Like a thief. I like feeling as if I’m his prize, the thing he came all the way from New York to take back with him, and hide in his castle - his apartment - to keep, for all eternity.  
I would leave my parents, leave my life in Milan, leave everything, and go with him to the end of the earth, to do whatever he wanted me to do - perhaps stay home and wait for him, run to him every day when he got back after work, and he’d embrace me and kiss me with such pride, because I was his precious possession.  
I like to imagine myself being revered; being tended to and adored by him; like something rare and coveted.  
It may sound crazy, but the truth is that if he asked me, I would do all this and even more; at the drop of a hat.

All I see is him and all I want is him.  
I die when he tells me I’m beautiful; I don’t know what he sees in me, I don’t know where he sees this beauty - but the truth is that when he tells me, I believe it.

It’s true that his apartment is big enough for two. Built for two. Infuriatingly, I felt a twinge of jealousy in my belly when he showed me around, my stupid mind chanting ‘he could be living here with someone, he could be living here with someone.’ I made my mind quieten, at least for a while: I am here now. I’m the someone. I will be sleeping in his bed. I will be naked in his shower. I will lounge in his living room in my underwear and curl up on the couch with him. It will be me.

We’re staying in tonight, and we’re going to cook together. I don’t know what’s going to come of it, but I am excited all the same. Last night, all we did was open a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and we didn’t even manage to get through one whole glass that he had me sitting on the counter, him between my legs, the wine flavouring both our tongues as we kissed.

I am expecting much of the same for tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

July 10th, 1984  - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Note from Oliver found on his pillow just now when I woke up:

 

  
_Good morning my Elio,_

_You were sleeping so peacefully that I couldn’t bear to wake you up._

_I popped out to get us coffee and croissants. I thought the least I could do after having kept you up so late last night would be to bring you breakfast in bed...(I’ll look out for the croissants with strawberry jam, I know they are your favorite.)_

_You looked gorgeous so sound asleep. Your hair is all tousled, and adorable, now that it’s longer._

_Don’t move. I’ll be right back._

_I love you - Oliver_

 

We were planning on going on a mini trip to Staten Island today...but I guess it can wait.


	7. Chapter 7

July 13th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

 

We met Catherine today.

 

Oliver said he would show me the campus in Columbia, and so we went (not many people around, now that it’s summer, so not a high chance that any of his colleagues would see us).  
Well, it turns out that Catherine was indeed around. She said she is staying behind as she has a group of summer students to look after.  
I wanted to look confident, but instead, I could feel myself shrinking into the ground. I wished I could shrink against Oliver’s side.

She is tall and good looking, and Oliver’s age. She looks like an actual adult. She doesn’t need to wear a shirt and dress slacks to look grown up. And I’m sure she wouldn’t look like a child if she were wearing a t shirt and shorts. Her hair is not permanently tangled and messy, she isn’t stick-thin. She has a career and a life.

I wish I could say I didn’t like her, but she was smiling at me, and asking Oliver questions like, have you guys been having fun, what do you have planned for today, did you know they finally opened that Japanese restaurant around the corner you two should check it out. She was talkative, and Oliver seemed very at ease chatting to her.

I stayed quiet like an idiot.

On the way back, I didn’t talk much either. Oliver, too, was quiet. I guess he didn’t know what to say. I’m not even sure if he planned for me to meet Catherine at all.

I decided not to say anything about it. What for? There’s nothing to say. This is just me being unreasonable.

When we got home, I just told Oliver I was going to take a shower. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door and asked if he could come in. I let him, pulled him inside the shower cubicle with me. He took off his clothes while we were already kissing.  
We didn’t do anything, just kissed for a very long time, until the water started running cold, and he turned it off and held me while I was shivering against him. I wasn’t crying; but he was acting as if I were. I was just grateful that his body always seems to give me warmth, even when we have both been standing naked under lukewarm trickles of water for minutes and minutes.

He’s asleep on the sofa now, with his head on my tummy. I’d grabbed my diary and half-lied here to kind of write a little, maybe, and he came and lied next to me and now he’s asleep.  
I think I’m just going to stroke his hair for a bit, until my eyes get heavy and I can fall asleep too. It’s been a tiring day.


	8. Chapter 8

July 17th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Yesterday we went down to Brooklyn.

Crossed the bridge (a couple of times actually), and I took way too many pictures, which I’m sure will come out all wrong because I didn’t care where the light was coming from, and I’m sure I was moving too much. But I hope I did manage to catch the moments Oliver was smiling.   
I said I wish I had a Polaroid camera, so we could just have photos straight away and not have to wait. Oliver said that’s a great idea. So we can take whatever pictures we want, and not have someone else see them when you take them to the shop to be developed.   
I’m not completely sure, but I think I might have blushed a little bit.   
His eyes were twinkling.

Afterwards, we bought a whole bunch of donuts from a little shop down the road (I couldn’t tell if the guy behind the counter was happy we bought so many, or thought we were really weird...). We ate them on the sofa, watching something or other on the tv - I actually can’t remember, because we started kissing, and his lips tasted so good that I forgot everything.   
We only stopped when this weird tv show started - I could hear the silly theme song, and I recognised it, it was the soap opera Mamma always watches, it’s called Dallas, I said to Oliver, and I couldn’t stop laughing because I can’t believe that stuff was in the background while we were making out.

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he was amused.   
To make me stop laughing, he had to turn the tv off, and push me down on the cushions, holding my wrists up - even though he was chuckling against my throat the whole time.

This morning, I called my mother. Because even if neither she nor my dad asked me to make sure I call them, and they’re not the kind of parents who worry usually, they were still going to grumble with me if I didn’t. Of course, mom asked me if I miss them, and stuff like that - which I don’t, I mean, she just wants me to say it. So I said it, but for her benefit. Not for anything else. She knows I’m not a little kid who misses his mom.

Anyway. I’ve been wondering. I wonder how my parents dealt with the prospect of something happening to their relationship. I’m sure they had their doubts? And I don’t mean doubts towards their own commitment. And not even towards the other’s commitment. What I mean is, I wonder if they ever worried that something would come and take the other away. Someone just appearing on the scene, uncaring of whatever has already been built and settled between two people. It’s an eventuality that every couple can face, isn’t it?

It has nothing to do with trusting your husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend. What it has to do with is the fact that it could happen.

I wouldn’t ask my dad, because I know what he would say. He would say, why don’t you talk to Oliver about it?   
Because papà believes that you should always talk to people, when something bothers you or when there’s something that needs to be said.

I don’t want to talk to Oliver about it. Should I? Or should I not? I wish I knew the answer already. I wish my stupid mind would just stop, with all these confusing thoughts, because all I want is to curl up in bed with him, as he is right now, still asleep, and remember where I am and with who, and that we’re happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still being with me and reading. I really appreciate it. Please let me know what you think. I love reading your comments, and they cheer me up so much when I’m sad. Xx


	9. Chapter 9

July 19th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Today I asked him. What would he do, if he liked someone else.  
We were in the kitchen, trying to tidy up, kind of absentmindedly after a late lunch.

So I asked him.

He said he won’t.

I said but what if? What if you see someone, and you like them.

I don’t know what possessed me.

I mean, what am I saying? I should just accept that this has been on my mind for a while. This has been on my mind always, from before the first time we even kissed, when I thought he was sleeping with so many women in the village, when I saw him kissing Chiara. But I don’t know what possessed me to say it now.

Maybe pottering about here, in his kitchen, kissing every now and then, with his smell on me, and thinking that this could be easily someone else’s. Because you never know what could happen.

He said, “it could happen to you.” Meaning perhaps I’ll see someone else that I like, and maybe I’ll be tempted with them.  
That wouldn’t happen, and he knows that.

“Why wouldn’t it happen?”

Because I love you, Oliver. Because you’re my very first thought when I wake up and my very last thought when I fall asleep. Because you do something to my body every time you’re near that I can’t explain but which makes me a slave to you. Because I’ve never felt like this before and I can’t even think of ever kissing anyone else.

So he came close, really close to my mouth, and said “why can’t you believe that the same happens to me when I’m with you?”

Every time he does this my brain just stops functioning and he knows it, and I think maybe he does it on purpose. I could only look at him. He smiled his amazing smile, and then he started tickling me and a minute later he’d crowded me in a corner and I was failing to catch my breath.

I know I want him to promise me everything, even promise me things that can’t be promised. After all, who can tell the future?  
Would I blame him if he fell for someone else, and yet was honest and transparent enough to tell me, because he still loves me enough not to want to deceive me?  
Thoughts like these are so difficult to manage. Every time I try, I find myself spiralling. I panic so much that he always, always notices - I bet he would notice even with an ocean between us.  
(Every time I think of an ocean between us again all I want is him in me, so I can delude myself that we can be one and only one person forever.)

The truth is that I know that it would never happen to me. To find another. To fall for another. I know it deep in my heart. And I want him to know this, too.  
I am only eighteen, but while my body will change with the years, it doesn’t mean my heart will.

After that, he said we should go out for a while, and he took me to get ice cream at a parlor in the east village. He paid and we left, and his hand was on the small of my back for a while as we walked outside.  
I wish I could have kissed him, right there with our lips tasting of mint and dark chocolate, but I just contented myself with smiling at him from behind my gelato.  
He said it reminded him of being in Italy, a little bit, it reminded him of last year. God it feels like so long ago.

But it’s not bad, now. Not bad at all.


	10. Chapter 10

July 21st, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
We were thinking of what we call each other. What our names for each other are.

Oliver has so many for me.  
Goose, doll, angel, beautiful. Devil.

I have a few for him too. Amore. Bellissimo. My love. (And those I whisper, sometimes moan for him when we fuck: _so big, so hot, so hard. So deep inside I never want to let you go I will love you forever_ )  
I whispered them for him, since we were already in bed, and I let the stubble on his cheek rub against my lips as I spoke against his face, because I know he likes it when my mouth goes all red.

Of course we made love afterwards. He was almost delirious, and I love it when he loses control, with me. I can take it and always kiss him even harder when he asks me if I’m okay. I love it when he holds my face in his hands and smiles at me.

I love him.

In the afternoon, I was half-napping on the couch, and he said he had to go out for a few minutes. I let him go because I really felt sleepy. He woke me up not long after with a kiss on the cheek and said, guess what?

He bought a Polaroid camera! He was serious, he really bought one!

I laughed and kinda blushed too, because I know this will be useful for us...  
Well. When you don’t live in the same continent, what can you do, apart from keeping photographs, to remember the other?  
I wish I could have taken a picture of him kissing my hair, and telling me that he likes my smell. I wish I could take pictures of everything!

Tomorrow, we’re going to rent a car and drive to Long Island. It will be fun.


	11. Chapter 11

July 25th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

List of things Oliver likes:

\- apricots

\- apricot juice

\- Italian bread

\- sunny days

\- taking the boat to Staten Island to look at the view of the harbor, with his arm around me (it happened once)

\- when the subway isn’t crowded

\- when we can hold hands in the street

\- writing

\- reading

 

 

List of things Oliver doesn’t like:

  
\- rain

\- people not listening

\- people who don’t like to read

\- not knowing how to speak Italian

\- not knowing how to speak French

\- pizza with burned spots on the crust

\- lukewarm coffee

\- when Katz’s runs out of pastrami

\- when we disagree on something

\- not being able to go swimming   whenever he wants

\- when I’m grumpy

 

 

List of things Oliver LOVES:

  
\- my lips

\- my curls

\- stroking my ears

\- making love on the couch

\- stealing kisses in the street

\- making love in the shower

\- when I wake him up with coffee

\- when I tell him that I love him

\- when I suck on his finger

\- when we stay in bed all day

\- all our Polaroid pictures

\- talking about our first kiss

\- talking about when he first saw me

\- talking  about when he read my first letter

\- when we pretend we live together

\- when I said I would marry him. If I could.


	12. Chapter 12

July 29th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Last night, Oliver took me to a concert for piano at Carnegie Hall. The composer was from Sweden, and his music was so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off him and his movements. The whole experience, including seeing this huge majestic building (I can’t believe it opened in 1891... nearly a hundred years ago!) was overwhelming in the best way.  
Oliver kissed my cheek and ruffled my hair after and was laughing, saying that he thought he would have never been able to drag me away after it ended, I was so into it. He’s probably right. It was such a dream.  
We plan to go and see a show on Broadway, too. I can’t wait.

Today, a letter arrived, from Marzia. She was asking how I am, if I’m having fun, saying that she’s sure I am, stuff like that. It’s nice of her. I knew she was going to write because she asked for Oliver’s address before we left.

Oliver too said that it was nice of her, but I think he was a little jealous. Her letter is all in French, so even though I did tell him that she sends him her love, he had that suspicious expression on his face (that he thinks he hides well, but he doesn’t). I guess, he hasn’t seen a lot of Marzia and I together since he- when he came back to Italy last month. So he doesn’t know that she’s been such a good friend to me (a way better friend that I have been to her, since she had to-she had to be there for me when my heart was in pieces.)

But I know that he knows what she is to me. Just a friend. A really, really good friend, but just a friend nonetheless.  
So after reading the letter I went up to him and hugged him and purred a little against him, and he was all fine again. He asked me to read him the letter - he doesn’t understand French, but he loves hearing me speak it.  
In fact, he likes it so much he didn’t even let me finish reading because he wanted to kiss me... I love it when he breathes so deep and hums in his throat. My body just responds to him on its own.

Ps. I think I should write down a list of things I like, next. (Even though it will be all about Oliver...)


	13. Chapter 13

August 1st, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

 

Sometimes I feel like everything is unfair. Why can’t I ever do what I want, do things my way, why is there always something that comes first? Something else that I have to do instead?

Oliver and I had an argument and I’m upset.  
We were in bed just earlier and I told him that I don’t want to leave, and that I wish I could just not go back to school, whatever. And stay here with him instead. 

He replied ‘don’t say these things.’ His tone was so serious and so I looked at him (I had been looking at the ceiling the whole time); I almost couldn’t believe he was talking to me like that. Stern.  
He was looking back at me. He said that school is important and that I shouldn’t want to risk my future.

What future? What future, if not with him? Does he actually think I care about having a future if he’s not in it?

Maybe I overreacted, I don’t know.  
I told him, is this the way you see it then? And he didn’t reply, and so I told him to leave me alone.   
I turned around and curled up on the mattress with my back to him, and refused to look at him. My heart was beating fast, I was so irritated.

I could feel him behind me, breathing but not saying anything. And I didn’t want to talk. I still don’t. I was just hoping he’d go to sleep and I was hoping I’d go to sleep but of course it never happens. I’ve always suffered from this insomnia that just happens at the worst of times, just when sleep would really help me not to ruminate on my stupid thoughts.

So now I’m up, writing in the kitchen, and I think he’s asleep. If he isn’t, then he’s pretending.  
I don’t know when I’m going to go back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day! If you like this story, please let me know. Xx


	14. Chapter 14

August 2nd, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman 

 

Well, last night... I went back to bed, maybe an hour later - and as soon as I did, Oliver hugged me and pushed his face into my neck. He said he was sorry for sounding patronizing.

I just. I am sorry I have been so unreasonable.   
Just one hour away from him, feeling mad at him made me miss him so much (even though I struggled to admit it to myself) that I was so relieved, and also, my face burned with something like shame because I have really been childish. So much for being eighteen! Sometimes I act like a kid and I don’t even know why. He was telling the truth, I can’t just leave school, but I didn’t want to admit it and decided to get angry at him instead.   
It was a good thing that he was kissing my mouth and cheek and kind of distracted me, or I would have cried (which also seems to be my habit now. God, I’m a mess...)

I just squeezed myself against him and closed my eyes and prayed all my bad thoughts went away. I prayed he didn’t notice that I seem unable to handle a relationship like ours.

But luckily, he hugged me back. He said that if he could he’d keep me here forever, but he isn’t going to do anything that will mean not letting me be my own person and grow. He said he loves me and that will never change, but he wants to see me happy and fulfilled.

I know he’s right. I apologized to him.   
I’m such a brat.

When I woke up this morning, all I remembered was that he was still kissing me as we both fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I couldn’t keep them sad with each other.....
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you can ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I posted my message the other day, I honestly thought almost nobody was still reading. As I mentioned to someone, I didn’t want to abandon this story but I did think of ending it sooner, by rushing through and cutting down the chapters. 
> 
> I received close to 50 comments, all saying that you wanted this story to continue. 
> 
> You are all so lovely, and I appreciated each and every single message. Especially because I was feeling so horrible mentally, and you all took the time to send a nice word. Every message helped a lot, and I am so grateful that you took the time to listen. And that you were so understanding. 
> 
> However, this whole thing just reminded me that we don’t know what another person is thinking. I honestly felt that you wanted me to end the story, when apparently it was the opposite. 
> 
> Let people know how you feel! Let them know if you like something. This is a lesson for me too.

_From Oliver-_

 

_My Elio,_

_I’m so happy you’re here with me. You grow more and more beautiful each day, right in front of my eyes._

_I love you._

_Don’t you ever doubt this._

 

 

Aug 3rd, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

I woke up this morning and I found this message in my diary. I think I forgot it open on the bedside table, as I often do (honestly, I had better things to do last night. Namely having sex with my boyfriend) and he wrote it while I was still asleep. Then when I woke up, he was smiling at me, and I thought it was because I looked funny (my hair gets super messy as I sleep. When I wake up, it looks like the fur of a baby goat. Sometimes I hate having curly hair!) but he just said ‘I think you left your journal open last night’. He wasn’t even being subtle about it.

Obviously I got this huge grin when I read his message. And he took me into his arms, and held me, and I love that because his smell is so familiar now and I adore pushing my nose into his neck and breathing him in. It’s reassuring.  
But it’s also arousing. We started kissing and then I climbed on top of him, and told him I wanted him, and he protested (but only a little), as I was expecting him to, because he always worries that he might hurt me and that we might be too reckless, and so forth.

But I want him to hurt me. Because that hurt is not real pain, at all, it’s just the knowledge that he’s been inside me and that he is inside me again, just where he belongs, and it’s just me giving him and myself exactly what my body was made for. I was made for him. And he was made for me. And he should be inside me always.

We’ve decided we’re spending today alone, completely, no distractions, no phone calls, we’re not leaving the bedroom not even to answer the door for the mailman. We’ll just lay here and be lazy, and get warm, and sweaty and fat with each other’s kisses and each other’s tongues, and then we’ll only get up to get food, and we’ll drink wine and I will get tipsy because I’m a lightweight, and I’ll taste sweet and spicy, which is just what he likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still fluffy and loved up... I just want them to be happy.


	16. Chapter 16

Aug 6th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
When I woke up today, Oliver was kind of quiet and kind of tense. When I went to kiss him good morning he didn’t really look at me, although he held my wrist in his fingers, and wouldn’t let me leave him (I wanted to go make some coffee for us) which is what he does when he wants to tell me something but doesn’t know how.

I’d heard the phone ringing as I was waking up, so I asked him if he’d been contacted by someone - and he finally looked up, and told me that Catherine had called. She needed to bring him the schedules for September; and so she was coming over. He was worried that it would put me in a bad mood or upset me to see her.

So at first I was annoyed. I tried not to show him, because I knew he was already concerned and I didn’t want to, in a way, prove him right. But it was her and it was work and - he said he wouldn’t have to work while I am here. It kind of reminded me that September is approaching fast. Surely not something that I look forward to.

But then I grit my teeth and went to take a shower and sort out my hair, and got dressed, my mind telling me that this is MY time with Oliver, MY space, with him, and as much as we can’t scream it from the rooftops that we are together I am not going to let anybody, including Catherine, with her nice dress and elegant face and grown up behaviour, come in here and back me up into a corner.

When she came in, Oliver did the polite thing and offered her a drink. He was still tense, looked at me before he went into the kitchen to make her tea. I just sat at the table, across from her, my chin up, not trying to hide away like last time.

And then something that I wasn’t expecting, happened.

She smiled at me, her hand on the table, almost as if she was reaching towards me. And said, ‘Elio. I hope you don’t feel I’m being rude or presumptuous. But I know how unsettling and complicated these situations are and I wanted to reassure you.’   
I think my eyes went completely wide; I don’t know why, but against my better judgement, I had poised myself for a confrontation. Of sorts.   
Instead, she said that she understood; she said ‘I know you know this, but you have nothing to worry about. Oliver is crazy about you. Even if I had wanted to have him for myself, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I think no one would. He is gone for you. And I’ve known him for so long, I’m glad to be able to help him.’   
I hope I did look confident, because inside, I felt all over the place. My heart was beating so fast. I knew they had, an ‘agreement’; but somehow, hearing it from her stunned me. Hearing her say that he loves me stunned me. It’s the first time someone else knows, aside from my parents.   
‘And darling, you are so gorgeous,’ she said also. ‘Now I can see why he walks around with hearts in his eyes. And I’m very happy for him.’

She only stayed for a few minutes after that, just the time to have her tea. Once she left, Oliver started asking me if I was okay; but I just hugged him and smiled, the biggest smile I could give him because I wanted him to know that I wasn’t upset, I wasn’t angry. I was totally fine.

More than fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only about 2 weeks left of their time together... x


	17. Chapter 17

Aug 10th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

  
We’ve been out almost every day this week. Oliver’s taken me to all his favorite restaurants so far - like he said, admittedly some of them are, how Americans call them, ‘diners’, but he insisted we should go because of the burgers, and pancakes, and other greasy and delicious stuff - and honestly, any place that has peanut butter gets my vote! (We don’t have it in Italy. Oliver laughs when I eat it straight from the jar; he says I should take a suitcase full back with me.)

We saw Purple Rain and Ghostbusters at the movies. We went to look at the Statue of Liberty, all covered up by scaffolding, and Oliver was grumbling because I didn’t ‘get to see it properly’. We went to a bar the other night, in the Greenwich Village, and sat in a booth all the way to the back. I can’t technically drink in America (nobody makes a fuss in Italy around drinking age..) but this bar seemed very relaxed, in general. Oliver gave me his drink (it looked like plain coke, but it had vodka) and got himself another one. We kissed. Nobody was looking at us, but still. We kissed. I felt warm all over. There were other couples, other men with men. And nobody paid attention.   
I’m... sure I sound so naive. I hate this. But the only other gay couple I’ve seen, ever in my life, are Isaac and Mounir. Nobody my age, in Italy.   
Maybe it was the vodka in my veins, but I did feel warm all over, and excited, and I don’t know what else, but it just felt good. And seeing Oliver smile felt good.

He was looking at me and I felt that he wanted to say something, but wasn’t allowing himself to.

When we got home, in bed, looking at each other, I asked him. What is it, I know there’s something.   
He stroked my lips with his thumb and asked me, are you sure you’re enjoying this?

At first I was so confused. Because what did he mean? I thought it was obvious I was enjoying myself. He said... he was worried that he was isolating me. He was worried that he was being unfair, by not introducing me to his friends, by not letting us be more social. He said he’d seen me at the bar, he’d seen that I enjoyed the atmosphere and seeing people, and he worried that he was keeping me from the world.

I shook my head for like, a whole minute straight. He’s so silly sometimes. Yes, I like going out, but that’s nothing compared to how much I LOVE spending time with him and how excited I am that we get to be alone. It’s all I want! I like kissing him in bars, showing everyone that he’s mine, that I am his - but all I care about is him, and me, us, and catching up on all the time that we haven’t been able to spend alone. I don’t care where and I don’t care if there’s nobody else around us. I could never be bored of him.

His eyes were still worried, but I kissed him, and he kissed me back and I hope he won’t dwell in such thoughts again. He’s my whole world. I will show him every day if he needs me to. 


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

Aug 12th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

List of things I like:

 

\- Nutella

\- Music 

- Apricot juice

\- Reading

\- Swimming 

\- Kissing

\- Kissing Oliver

\- Being kissed by Oliver

\- Living with Oliver

\- Oliver’s letters (because he is such a poet)

 

List of things I don’t like:

\- The cold

\- Having to spend time with people when I want to be alone

\- The piano when I’m not inspired

\- When books are forgettable

\- School, quando non mi va

\- Feeling that I’m too young

\- Seeing Oliver sad

\- Being sad

\- Oliver’s letters (because it means he’s not with me)

\- The thought that I will have to leave soon.

 

List of things I love:

\- Making love with Oliver

\- Making love with Oliver for the rest of my life

\- Oliver Oliver Oliver

\- Being a tourist with Oliver

\- Kissing Oliver while out having a drink in a bar <-new experience!

\- Sleeping in Oliver’s arms

\- When Oliver tells me that he can’t get enough of me

\- Oliver Oliver Oliver

 

...I don’t want to go.


	19. Chapter 19

Aug 15th, 1984 -Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

Today is Ferragosto in Italy.

I called my parents and they had just returned from their picnic with their friends. They said they were sad I wasn’t there. I said ‘yes I know’ but I’m not sad...I am happy where I am right now. I have had many Ferragosto days with them, and none with Oliver. (Not that we did anything in particular today, we went for a walk in Central Park. I wanted to feed the ducks at the pond just because it makes me giggle the way they scramble for the bread. How ridiculously picturesque of us!)

I keep thinking that it’s nearly over and obviously I don’t want it to be.   
We haven’t talked about what’s going to happen after I leave. Just one year ago we started corresponding, and I can’t believe how this happened and I can’t believe I actually got to spend my whole summer with him, it’s - like an incredible dream. But I just don’t know what’s going to happen after. Oliver hasn’t mentioned the subject and, I don’t really want to ask. I don’t know.   
I try to force myself not to think about this, because I don’t want to remember the rest of our time together as time where I worried and got anxious.   
So, I am going to change the subject now.

When we were in Central Park, this woman walking past gave Oliver this look, like - really appreciative, to put it that way. It was funny because Oliver didn’t even notice, but I told him, and he turned around and she was still looking at him! Then Oliver turned back to me and rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help it and kept teasing him about it. She reminded me of Chiara last year when she was trying to catch his eye the whole time, and thought she had him in the bag that night that they kissed.   
So then Oliver grabbed my hips and made me squeak embarrassingly because I’m so ticklish, and I hugged him while I was still laughing, and I felt his lips press against the pulse point in my neck.

I hope that lady saw all this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ferragosto falls every 15th August in Italy, and it’s traditionally a day where people go to the countryside or the beach with friends and/or family and have a barbecue or a picnic and drinks for the whole day. In case you didn’t know. :) 
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you liked this. Not long to go now. Not sure what’s going to happen to Elio and Oliver after!
> 
> Xx


	20. Chapter 20

  
Aug 18th 1984  - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

Today has been a little strange, to put it that way.

And it’s really my fault. I’ve been trying not to think that our days together are numbered, since I leave next week (on Aug 24th). I know that worrying about the end of this will only ruin what’s left of it, so I have blocked that date from my mind, I’ve blocked the thought of me, back in Milan. I have imagined myself in New York, or wherever Oliver is, forever.  
But I don’t know what happened today. That sorrow was stronger than usual. I felt like crying but I didn’t want Oliver to see it.

So I told him I was going for a walk, alone, and he let me. I did feel like crying and I felt so pathetic because of it. I kept hoping nobody would see my red eyes, that nobody would notice, and thankfully there weren’t many people around at all and it was getting dark already. I didn’t go very far, just walked around the block for a while; until I saw Oliver, walking towards me. He came to meet me.  
I don’t know how long I walked for, I don’t think it was very long, I don’t think he was worried. But I think he knew I was crying.  
He took my hand and led me down an alley; and then he kissed me. He didn’t say anything, just kissed me. I kissed him back. I think I sobbed.  
I kept thinking I didn’t want anyone to walk by because I didn’t want us to stop kissing, and I didn’t want him to see the tears in my eyes. Not yet.

Thankfully, my wish was granted. We were alone, the whole time. I let Oliver leave my mouth only to kiss my neck and my collarbone; by that time, I was ready to go home. Ached for it.

In bed later, he wanted me to choose. Did I want to top him? I didn’t want to. I wanted him to take care of me. I wanted to lay there and close my eyes and just feel what was happening, what he was doing to me, to my body, where his hands were touching and his tongue was licking and wetting my skin; so that I could commit all that to memory, forever.

For when I have to leave. 


	21. Chapter 21

Aug 20th, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
Time seems to be going so fast, now. We do nothing but sleep intertwined, Oliver’s face always pressed against my throat, his legs in between mine. This morning, I awoke to his fingers tracing my lips. I wanted to cry, but I smiled instead. I remember everything.

Oliver’s classes start in a few days. Every time we look at each other, I want to mention it - soon, real life, him in New York, me in Milan. But it seems, every time I just can’t make myself say it, and I think he knows and he seems unable to say a word, either. We use sex to fill the gaps, or at least, that’s definitely how it feels. I feel so dependent on him and so needy, and to me, he feels the same under my fingers, and in my mouth, in my body. I just don’t want to think. I just don’t want to.

Last night, Oliver’s I love you to me sounded different. We were laying on the bed and he hovered above me and told me he loves me and then said, tell me you know. And I told him: I know. I know that he loves me. But he repeated it and then told me to tell him again. And I did, of course.

I don’t know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking something, I don’t know what.


	22. Chapter 22

Aug 22nd, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

This thought has come often into my mind, lately. If I were a girl; if I were a woman. What could have happened? Would Oliver have brought me here with him last year, would he have married me? Would we be married already? At seventeen and twenty four, because we are soulmates and we’ve found each other - would this have happened?

I thought about this yesterday and he saw me. Damn my face for showing every emotion I have so easily. I must have looked miserable (but also, after the other day, he’s been watching me so closely), because he asked what was wrong, and when I said there was nothing wrong, he made me look at him with his strong hands holding my face, like he does when he doesn’t want to give me escape.

I wanted to tell him anyway.   
I felt my voice cracking a bit and for a moment I was terrified I’d start crying again. But I was lucky, and it didn’t happen.

He frowned at first; and then he smiled. And he told me that whoever I was, in whatever universe, he would have fallen for me. Perhaps if I were a girl it would have been easier; but that’s just because the world is wrong. Not us. Not me.

“What I could have done doesn’t matter. It’s what we feel that does. And I feel no different than I would if I were free to marry you one day.”

Suddenly, it’s become so clear to me. We can be everything we want to be in our world. In our minds. If I want to be married to him, if we both believe we are; then it’s true. Then it’s real. We are what we choose to be.   
No matter what happens afterwards. It doesn’t matter that I leave in 2 days. It doesn’t matter that - I don’t know when I am going to see him again. It doesn’t matter to me.

I love Oliver. I love Oliver and no matter what happens after this, I will love him. I will.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is actually going to be one more chapter. I thought for a while and I decided this would work better. 
> 
> This follow up story was born because of your support and your interest in wanting to know more about the boys. I’m not really ready to let them go so... if you’d like to follow them for a little bit longer, let me know?
> 
> Love from me xx


	23. Chapter 23

September 1st, 1984 - Diary of Elio Pearlman

 

  
I haven’t written anything in over a week. I just didn’t feel like writing - I didn’t even try, to be completely fair. I kind of forgot about it for a while. Too many things were going on and there were too many things that I had to keep up with.   
Also, my intention for keeping this journal originally was to remember good things, and leaving New York and Oliver felt so awful (and still does) that I had no plans of committing that to memory. I thought it would crush me and I was absolutely going to let it happen, because why not? I don’t care if this sounds dramatic. You need to feel your emotions.

Anyway. This is not the reason why I’m writing again.   
I’m writing again because after we spent our last night together, Oliver and I, I woke up to a bunch of roses next to the bed. So I thought, oh god Oliver, you’re so ridiculous (but my cheeks were all warm already - I think I’m the ridiculous one) and since he was nowhere to be seen in the bedroom I somehow trudged to the kitchen, reluctantly because that was our last few hours together and I wanted to delay them as much as possible (I know, I make no sense).   
He was in the kitchen, making breakfast. And I walked over to him and just, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him while he still had cutlery and pans in his hands, I was annoyed, I wanted him not to waste time making food when he should have spent every single minute that we had left making love to me. It’s funny because, I felt my heart hurting so much but my body was still so ready for him, as if it had a reserve of energy that was separate from the one my mind was struggling to subside on.   
And Oliver, of course, kissed me for a while, but then took my face in his hands and said, wait. And I was confused, and annoyed, and hurt, and tearful already, i felt sick, I don’t even know. But I followed his eyes and they were looking at a paper on the table, on the table cloth, right next to the plates he’d got all ready for our breakfast and another red rose in a little vase (god, he is ridiculous). I picked up the paper. It was written in Italian. It was a letter of acceptance of his transfer to the Bocconi University. In Milan.

He applied to teach at Bocconi for a year as an assistant professor. And he’s been accepted.

I think I stopped breathing for like, the whole of 30 minutes. All I know is that Oliver was looking at me, smiling but his eyes were bright. And I tried to babble something, ugh how embarrassing, but he took my face in his hands again and kissed my mouth and said sorry, that he was so sorry for not telling me any of this, that he had applied but he didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it didn’t work out, and he wanted to be sure, and thank god he got that letter right on time, and so on. I don’t even know I heard all of this right, I was just so shocked. I think I cried. I just remember that he pulled me up on the counter, I must have felt like a doll in his arms because I was so non-responsive, and wrapped my legs around his waist, and we kissed and kissed.

It might seem over dramatic, or exaggerated, or naive. But - I was crying and wanted to laugh at the same time. A week later, now, remembering that moment still makes me happy. Even now that the anxiety tries to creep in with its stupid worries - how often will we meet? Can we spend every weekend together? Can I go over to his place every night after school? How many hours do we have to spend together? - thinking of that morning brings a smile to my face.

I still cried when I left of course. I was still heartbroken to be leaving New York, and the nest, how Oliver called it sometimes, where we hid for part of the summer. I’ve been sad and homesick for him all the same since I got back.

But he’s coming to Italy. He’s coming to Milan!!! To Milan. Where I live. He’s going to be here for a year. Every time I think of this I can hardly believe it myself. We don’t know when he’ll be here yet, I think not for another month, but it’s not a long time at all.   
Oliver wants to tell my parents himself, but of course I mentioned it to them already, how can I not? They would have been able to tell. I smile so wide every time I think of him here, of him coming to visit and of him going back to the villa with us during the holidays - they would have known something was up.   
I’m keeping myself busy by transcribing new music that he would like, and I went shopping for new clothes because I want to look good for him when he’s here. I want it to be perfect.

I can’t believe it. There I was, thinking perhaps it was the end; and instead, while something did end, something else, even bigger, is going to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go! The end of another adventure. I hope you liked reading Elio’s diary.   
> I couldn’t let them stay separate for too long... they are meant to be together. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for all your comments and encouragement along the way. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to respond to each comment, but trust me, I read and loved them all! 
> 
> Til next time... 
> 
> Love from me xx


End file.
